BULLETIN 

OF 

Randolph -Macon 
Woman’s  College 


THE  EARL  OF  BEACON  SFIELD 

BY 

B.  W,  Arnold,  Jr.,  Ph.  D. 

Professor  of  History ,  Randolph-Maeon  Woman  *s  College 


Published  by  Randolph-Macon  Woman's  College 
Lynchburg,  Va. 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2018  with  funding  from 

University  of  Illinois  Urbana-Champaign  Alternates 


https://archive.org/details/earlofbeaconsfie00arno_0 


8  L  S 


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b  Ow 


The  Earl  of  Beaconsfield* 

By  B.  W.  ARNOLD,  Jr  ,  Ph.  D. 

Professor  of  History,  Randolph- Macon  Woman  s  College 

Ladies  and  Gentlemen : 

It  is  my  pleasure  to  present  for  your  consideration  this  evening 
an  exceptionally  unique  personality.  Whatever  may  be  the  criti¬ 
cisms  or  compliments  paid  Benjamin  Disraeli;  however  much  you 
may  like  or  dislike  this  proud  “aristocrat  of  aristocrats/’  the  Earl 
of  Beaconsfield,  none,  can  deny  that  the  man,  studied  from  any 
point  of  view,  is  out  of  the  ordinary.  Unusual  he  is  in  feature, 
dress,  manner;  in  mental  and  spiritual  equipment;  in  character 
and  career,  both  private  and  public.  Few  men  have  been  during 
their  lives  as  strongly  opposed,  as  heartily  hated,  as  bitterly  as¬ 
sailed,  as  savagely  and  openly  abused  as  he;  and,  per  contra,  few 
have  attacked  and  abused  their  detractors,  opponents  and  foes  as 
terrifically  as  he  did  his  own,  matching  invective  with  invective 
in  full  measure  and  to  spare.  Few  have  had  to  overcome,  in  their 
upward  struggle,  as  formidable  obstacles,  have  encountered  as 
peculiar  difficulties  and  have  had  as  grave  disappointments,  as 
many  setbacks  and  seeming  failures  as  he  experienced;  and  few 
have  dared  to  conceive  more  nobly  of  themselves  and  of  the  work 
of  their  hands;  have  had  as  clear  and  high  ambition;  have  had 
as  sure  faith  in  themselves;  and,  having  once  selected  their  life’s 
purpose,  have  exhibited  in  their  efforts  to  attain  it  more  of  pa¬ 
tience,  industry,  courage,  and  self-reliance,  than  he.  And  he  won 
the  goal  of  his  ambition.  He  succeeded.  His  labors  have  gained 

*A  lecture  delivered  in  the  chapel  before  an  audience  of  the  students, 
faculty  and  friends  of  the  college  on  March  20,  1915.  Books  used  in  its 
composition : 

W.  F.  Monypenny:  Life  of  Benjamin  Disraeli,  Earl  of  Beaconsfield, 
Vols.  1  and  2. 

T.  E.  Kebbel :  Lord  Beaconsfield  and  Other  Tory  Memories. 

T.  P.  O’Connor:  Lord  Beaconsfield,  a  Biography. 

G.  M.  Towle:  .  Benjamin  Disraeli. 

Disraeli’s  Novels:  Vivian  Grey,  Coningsby  and  Contarini  Fleming. 

Sidney  Lee:  Queen  Victoria,  a  Biography. 

A.  L.  Cross :  History  of  England  and  Greater  Britain. 

Welford:  Earl  of  Beaconsfield. 

Encyclopaedia  Britannica,  Vol.  3. 

Fawcett :  Woman  Suffrage. 


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for  his  name,  shall  I  say  immortality?  Well,  so  long  as  England’s 
empire  exists,  or  that  gone,  so  long  as  history  tells  of  the  wide 
expanse  and  glories  of  Anglo-Saxon  rule  and  influence,  just  so 
long  will  the  name  of  Disraeli  be  known  and  respected,  if  not 
revered. 

And  yet  this  man  is  the  Semite,  the  Hebrew.  His  race  is  one 
that  British  rulers  and  people  time  out  of  mind  have  hated  and 
persecuted,  a  sect  whose  members  during  the  middle  ages  were 
despised  as  usurers  and  extortioners.  Detested  they  were  as 
aliens  and  heretics,  not  permitted  membership  in  merchant  or  trade 
guilds,  required  to  live  in  special  wards  of  the  city,  and  forced  to 
wear  a  special  dress.  On  occasion  when  popular  passions  flamed 
high  in  times  of  revelry  and  riot,  the  Jewries  would  be  sacked  and 
their  inhabitants  beaten,  robbed,  murdered,  roasted  or  driven  into 
exile.  At  the  close  of  the  13th  century  under  Edward  I,  popular 
hatred  of  the  Jews,  justifiable  only  in  part,  banished  about  17,000 
of  them  from  England.  Their  political  disabilities  were  not 
removed  in  England  until  the  middle  of  the  nineteenth  century. 
It  was  as  late  as  1845  before  they  were  admitted  to  municipal 
corporations,  and  as  late  as  1858  when  the  Relief  Act  admitting 
them  to  seats  in  Parliament  was  passed.  Disraeli  at  this  time 
was  in  middle  life.  True,  having  been  brought  into  the  Anglican 
Church  as  a  child,  he,  as  a  member  of  this  Christian  communion 
had  escaped  the  legal  barriers  to  public  office,  and  had  come  into 
parliament  as  early  as  1837;  but  the  tardy  relief  acts  show  the 
slight  political  esteem  long  accorded  his  race.  In  1847  Baron  de 
Rothschild,  who  had  been  elected  to  the  House  of  Commons  by 
the  City  of  London,  had  been  refused  his  seat,  because  prohibited 
by  his  faith  from  taking  the  prescribed  formal  oath  of  office. 
Among  the  very  first  discussions  Disraeli  heard  on  entrance  into 
parliament  was  one  that  concerned  the  rights  of  his  people.  The 
social  ostracism  experienced  in  England  seems  to  have  been  much 
felt  by,  and  to  have  embittered  Grandmother  D’lsraeli,  who  was, 
says  her  brilliant  grandson,  “so  mortified  by  her  social  position 
that  she  lived  until  eighty  without  indulging  a  tender  expression.” 
Yes  to  me  it  is  amazing  that  this  young  Israelite,  scion  of  a  race, 
long  ill-used,  and  in  his  own  day  so  generally  ignored,  should 
have  conquered  the  deeply  set  race  prejudice;  should  have  become 


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the  idol  of  an  important  and  influential  coterie  of  social  and  lit¬ 
erary  leaders;  should  have  come  to  be  recognized  as  the  chief 
apostle  of  Conservatism ;  should  have  been  made  a  Knight  of  the 
Garter,  and  an  Earl;  should  have  won  the  leadership  of  the  Con¬ 
servative  party,  the  Premiership,  and  an  authority  at  the  Con¬ 
gress  of  Berlin  in  J878,  that  enabled  him  to  dictate  the  European 
peace. 

Disraeli  was  exceedingly  proud  of  his  race,  deeming  the  He¬ 
brew  infinitely  superior  to  the  Anglo-Saxon,  knowing  that  his 
ancestors  had  enjoyed  an  advanced  culture  many  centuries  when 
the  Angles,  Saxons  and  Danes  first  appeared  as  pirates  and  ma¬ 
rauders  invading  the  shores  of  Britain.  He  thought  of  his  people 
as  the  favored  of  God,  to  whom  belonged  the  covenants  and  the 
oracles  of  deity,  the  heroes  of  faith,  the  law-givers,  prophets,  and 
apostles.  He  believed  there  coursed  through  his  body  the  fine 
strain  of  David  and  Isaiah.  According  to  his  account,  he  was  of 
the  Sephardim  sect  of  Hebrews,  "the  only  caste  extant  which  can 
boast  of  gentle  blood  in  all  its  generations  to  the  present  time,” 
that  noble  group  of  the  Children  of  Israel  "who  had  never  quitted 
the  shores  of  the  Midland  Ocean  until  Torquemada  had  driven 
them  from  their  pleasant  residences  and  rich  estates  in  Arragon, 
and  Portugal  to  seek  greater  blessings  amid  the  swamps  of  Hol¬ 
land  and  the  fogs  of  Britain.”  All  the  positive  knowledge  we 
have  as  to  his  origin  is  that  the  D’Israelis  "were  of  the  seed  of 
Abraham  and  that  they  came  approximately  from  Italy.”  Plis 
grandfather,  possibly  a  descendant  of  a  Hebrew  family  forced  out 
of  Spain  and  settling  in  Italy,  came  from  Cento  in  Ferrara, 
Italy,  to  England  in  1748;  began  work  as  a  clerk  in  an  Anglo- 
Italian  house;  later  became  a  prosperous  Italian  merchant,  had 
some  success  as  a  stockbroker,  becoming  a  member  of  the  Stock 
Exchange  Committee,  and  added  to  his  good  fortune  by  marrying 
Sarah  Siprut  de  Gabay,  his  second  wife,  who  brought  him  capital 
and  credit,  being  descended  from  the  Villa  Reals — a  wealthy 
branch  of  Hebrews  that  had,  says  Disraeli,  "twice  allied  them¬ 
selves  with  the  English  aristocracy.”  After  experiencing  several 
decades  of  substantial  prosperity  the  grandfather  died  at  the  age 
of  86  in  1816,  leaving  an  estate  real  and  personal  valued  at 
£35,000,  and  only  one  child,  a  son,  Isaac  D’Israeli  to  make  use  of 


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it.  This  boy  grown  to  manhood  was  the  very  antithesis  of  his 
father.  The  writing  of  a  poem  rather  than  the  selling  of  a  bale 
of  goods  interested  him,  to  whom  “commerce  was  the  corruption 
of  man,”  and  when  the  young  scribbler  was  sent  to  Amsterdam 
to  be  prepared  by  a  tutor  for  carrying  on  his  father’s  business, 
instead  of  devoting  his  time  to  the  study  of  economic  and  com¬ 
mercial  topics,  to  learning  better  the  ways  of  men  and  banks  and 
markets,  and  the  methods  of  handling  with  profit  stocks  and 
bonds,  money  and  credits,  he  went  to  the  library  shelves,  and  filled 
his  head  with  Voltaire  and  Rousseau.  Having  traveled  some  in 
France,  he  returned  to  England  in  his  twenty-second  year,  wrote 
some  satire  in  verse  that  attracted  the  attention  of  the  minor  liter¬ 
ary  celebrities  of  the  day ;  published  two  or  three  years  later  his 
“Curiosities  of  Literature,”  a  volume  of  anecdotes,  sketches  and 
observations,!  married  in  1802  when  thirty-six  years  of  age  an 
Italian  JewfMaria  Basevi;  and  from  this  time  on  devoted  the  rest 
of  his  life  To  literary  pursuits.  For  ten  years  he  accumulated 
matter  for  publication,  prosecuting  his  researches  every  morning 
among  the  MSS.  of  the  British  museum.  From  1812  to  1822  well 
received  works  from  his  pen  frequently  appeared  in  the  press; 
such  as  his  “Calamities  of  Authors,”  “Memoirs  of  Literary  Con¬ 
troversy,”  “Essay  on  the  Literary  Character,”  “Inquiry  into  the 
1  iter  ary  and  Political  Character  of  James  I,”  and  “Commentaries 
on  the  Life  and  Reign  of  Charles  I,”  the  latter  winning  for  him 
an  honorary  degree  from  Oxford  University.  As  a  writer  he 
was  admired  by  Byron,  Scott,  Southey  and  Rogers.  He  was  a 
complete  literary  character  and  was  the  furthest  remo\ed  from  a 
business  man,  or  a  society  man,  or  a  politician.  “His  only  amuse¬ 
ment,”  says  his  son,  “was  to  ramble  among  booksellers  If  he 
entered  a  club  it  was  only  to  go  into  the  library,  tn  the  countrv, 
he  scarcely  ever  left  his  room  but  to  saunter  in  abst -action  upon 
a  terrace ;  muse  over  a  chapter  or  coin  a  sentence,  *  *  *  Fie 

not  only  never  entered  into  the  politics  of  the  day,  bur  he  could 
never  understand  them.  He  never  was  connected  with  anv  par¬ 
ticular  body  or  set  of  men;  comrades  of  school  or  college,  or  con 
federates  in  that  public  life  which,  in  England,  is,  perhaps,  the 
only  foundation  of  real  friendship.”  He  was  blessed  with  five 
children,  one  girl  Sarah,  and  four  boys,  Benjamin,  Naphtali, 


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Raphael  and  Jacobus,  none  of  whom  except  Benjamin  seems  to 
have  been  possessed  of  remarkable  powers,  though  Sarah  was  de¬ 
cidedly  above  the  ordinary,  as  is  revealed  in  the  nature  of  the 
correspondence  which  she  kept  up  with  her  talented  brother  all 
through  his  life. 

The  home  of  the  D’lsraelis  where  Benjamin  was  born  on  De¬ 
cember  21,  1804,  and  where  he  was  “duly  initiated  into  the  Cov¬ 
enant  of  Abraham”  was  6  King’s  Road,  Bedford  Row,  London. 
In  1816,  when  the  boy  was  twelve  years  of  age,  his  father  now 
more  affluent  by  reason  of  the  fortune  left  at  the  death  of  the 
grandfather  in  this  year,  moved  to  6  Bloomsbury  Square,  London, 
a  finer  residence  and  in  close  proximity  to  the  British  Museum. 
Here  he  had  at  his  table  a  few  men  of  distinction — publishers, 
and  political  and  literary  friends  who  had  become  interested  in 
him  through  his  ingenious  publications,  the  young  Benjamin  no 
doubt  profiting  from  their  conversation  and  acquaintance.  In 
1826,  just  as  Benjamin  had  come  to  manhood’s  estate  the  father 
moved  again,  this  time  out  of  London  to  the  country,  to  Braden- 
hem,  an  old  manor  house  he  had  bought  in  Bucks  a  few  miles 
west  of  the  town  of  High  Wycombe  at  the  foot  of  the  Chiltern 
hills.  The  precarious  health  of  several  members  of  his  family 
seems  to  have  been  the  chief  cause  for  moving  to  this  old  estate. 
As  this  place  was  long  the  home  of  our  coming  statesman  and  one 
that  gave  him  roots  in  the  soil  of  England,  no  small  matter  in  the 
eyes  of  the  British  gentry,  let  his  facile  pen  describe  the  peaceful 
spot. 

“At  the  foot  of  the  Berkshire  Downs,  and  itself  on  a  gentle  ele¬ 
vation,  there  is  an  old  hall  with  gable  ends  and  lattice  windows, 
standing  in  grounds  which  once  were  stately,  and  where  there  are 
yet  glade-like  terraces  of  yew  trees  which  give  an  air  of  dignity 
to  a  neglected  scene.  In  front  of  the  hall  huge  gates  of  iron, 
highly  wrought,  and  bearing  an  ancient  date  as  well  as  the  shield 
of  a  noble  house,  opened  on  a  village  green,  round  which  were 
clustered  the  cottages  of  the  parish  with  only  one  exception,  and 
that  was  the  vicarage  house,  a  modern  building  and  without  taste, 
surrounded  by  a  small  but  brilliant  garden.  The  church  was  con¬ 
tiguous  to  the  hall,  and  had  been  raised  by  the  lord  on  a  portion 
of  his  domain.  Behind  the  hall  the  country  was  common  land 


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but  picturesque.”  At  quiet  Bradenham  Isaac  Disraeli  passed  the 
remainder  of  his  life,  growing  blind  in  his  later  years,  dying  in 
1848  at  the  advanced  age  of  82,  leaving  nearly  the  whole  of  his 
estate  to  Benjamin,  of  whom  the  father  was  justly  proud,  for  by 
this  date  the  son  had  held  a  seat  in  the  House  of  Commons  for 
ten  years. 

Isaac  Disraeli  cannot  be  dismissed  from  this  account  without 
a  word  concerning  his  relation  to  the  synagogue.  He  was  an 
ultra-liberal  and,  though  a  member  of  the  congregation,  disliked 
its  narrow  orthodoxy.  He  allowed  his  children  to  be  brought  up 
in  the  Jewish  faith,  paid  his  church  dues  regularly,  and,  though 
his  free  thought  did  not  accord  with  the  traditions,  made  no  stir, 
but  maintained  his  nominal  connection  with  the  congregation 
until  an  effort  was  made  to  make  him  serve  as  an  official,  and 
until  on  his  outright  refusal  he  had  been  fined  forty  pounds  ster¬ 
ling.  The  quarrel  was  long  drawn  out  but  issued  finally  in  the 
severance  of  his  connection  with  the  synagogue.  But  while 
ceasing  to  be  a  Jew,  he  did  not  become  a  Christian.  On  the 
insistence,  however,  of  a  Mr.  Sharon  Turner  the  father  was 
half  persuaded  to  let  his  children  join  the  Anglican  Church,  and, 
as  the  story  goes,  on  his  half-consent  “Mr.  Turner  called  the  day 
following  and  took  us  off  to  St.  Andrews,  Holburn,  to  be  bap¬ 
tized.”  A  case  of  sudden  or  instantaneous  conversion,  to  be  sure, 
and  quite  fortunate  for  the  boy  it  turned  out  to  be;  but  one  he 
apparently  had  little  volitional  part  in.  He  developed,  however, 
into  the  staunchest  protagonist  for  the  rights  of  the  Church  Es¬ 
tablishment.  And  though  alien  in  race  he  certainly  proved  a 
British  patriot  in  heart. 

Briefly  sketched,  the  career  of  Benjamin  Disraeli  is  as  follows : 
Born,  1804,  London;  as  a  child  “unruly  and  disturbing,”  sent  for 
some  years  to  a  school  of  no  special  merit  at  Blackheath,  con¬ 
ducted  by  an  independent  minister,  where  the  child,  still  a  pro¬ 
fessing  Jew,  was  allowed  the  privilege  of  standing  back  at  prayer¬ 
time  ;  and  where  he  busied  himself  with  reading  stories  of  rob¬ 
bers  and  caves,  more  than  with  hard  study,  and  with  amusing  his 
companions  with  rough  pencil  sketches,  playing  at  parliament  and 
“presenting  on  half  holidays  a  little  extemporized  drama.”  Quite 
child-like  his  first  letter  home,  “Dear  mama,  I  have  arrived  safe. 


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B.  Disraeli/’  At  thirteen  he  was  sent  for  two  or  three  years  to 
a  better  school  in  Epping  Forest  directed  by  a  Unitarian  Minister, 
Rev.  Eli  Cogan,  where  there  were  fifty  or  sixty  boys  and  where, 
“nothing  was  thought  of  but  two  dead  languages.”  He  never 
could  reach  the  first  class  in  this  school  which  dealt  with  Aeschy¬ 
lus,  Aristophanes,  Plato  and  other  Greek  orators.  But  he  claims 
to  have  read  a  great  deal  in  those  years.  “In  Greek  all  of  Herod¬ 
otus,  much  of  Thycidides,  the  greater  part  of  the  Iliad;  some  of 
the  Odyssey ;  the  Ajax ,  Oedipus  Rex  and  Antigone  of  Sophocles; 
the  Media,  Hippolytus  and  Alcestis  of  Euripides;  Theocritus,  the 
Idylls,  and  Xenophon,  the  Retreat  and  part  of  the  Cyropaedia. 
In  Latin,  Cicero,  Caesar,  much  of  Livy,  something  in  Tacitus, 
all  of  Virgil  and  Horace;  some  of  the  best  things  in  Catullus  and 
the  elegiac  poets;  the  first  book  of  Lucretius ,  and  all  Terence ” 
Leaving  Cogan’s  about  his  fifteenth  year,  he  cotninued  his  educa¬ 
tion  for  two  years  longer  at  home,  possibly  under  the  guidance 
of  a  tutor,  reading,  he  says,  about  twelve  hours  a  day.  At 'seven¬ 
teen  he  was  “articled”  by  his  father  who  hoped  to  make  a  lawyer 
out  of  him,  to  a  firm  of  solicitors  in  London,  where  for  three 
years  nearly  he  was  most  assiduous  in  his  attention  to  business, 
learned  some  law,  and  gained  much-needed  information  concern¬ 
ing  human  nature  and  practical  affairs ;  but  where  he  never  felt 
content.  His  employers  were  disgusted  to  find  him  reading 
Chaucer  during  business  hours.  Literature  was  claiming  his  in¬ 
terest  and  at  twenty,  while  still  in  the  law  office,  he  submitted 
(1824)  to  the  publishers  a  short  satire  on  the  present  state  of 
society.  His  manuscript  was  promptly  rejected,  but  the  disap¬ 
pointment  did  not  balk  him — in  fact  nearly  all  his  successes  in 
life  were  founded  on  previous  failures.  Taken  on  account  of 
failing  health  just  at  this  time  by  his  father  on  a  six  weeks’  tour 
of  the  continent,  and  thus  gaining  a  larger  vision  of  the  world 
(for  till  this  time  he  had  probably  not  been  a  hundred  miles  from 
home)  and  gaining  too  a  better  realization  of  his  own  natural 
bent  and  innate  powers,  he  had  soon  settled  in  his  own  mind,  as 
did  Edmund  Burke,  quite  contrary  too  to  his  father’s  earnest  in¬ 
sistence,  that  the  office  of  a  clerk  or  solicitor  was  too  small  a  place 
for  his  expanding  life.  Nine  years  later  recalling  his  visit  to  the 


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Rhine,  he  said,  “I  determined  when  descending  those  magical 
waters  that  I  would  not  be  a  lawyer.” 

Bigger  things  this  adventurous  young  man  would  have.  First 
he  would  make  a  fortune  in  a  day.  Credulous  of  the  stories  of 
the  immense  mineral  riches  of  the  New  World,  then  circulating, 
and  believing  that  the  companies  being  formed  to  exploit  these 
new  lands  would  have  immediate  and  marvelous  success,  he, 
with  a  confederate,  Evans,  who  had  most  of  the  cash  at  the  start, 
began  a  series  of  speculative  operations  in  Spanish  American 
shares,  which  resulted  in  a  few  months  in  involving  them  in  a 
debt  of  £7,000,  a  debt  that  burdened  Disraeli  for  the  better  part 
of  his  after  life,  not  being  finally  “liquidated  until  nearly  thirty 
years  later  when  he  had  already  led  the  House  of  Commons  and 
had  been  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer.”  During  most  of  his  life 
he  was  in  the  grip  of  the  money-lenders.  “What  should  I  be 
without  my  debts,”  he  makes  one  of  his  characters  in  Tancred 
say,  “dear  companions  of  my  life?  All  my  knowledge  of  human 
nature  is  owing  to  them.  Yes,  among  my  creditors,  I  have  disci¬ 
plined  that  diplomatic  ability  that  shall  some  day  confound  and 
control  cabinets.  Oh  my  debts,  I  feel  your  presence  like  that  of 
guardian  angels !”  But  from  his  letters  to  the  solicitor,  who  nego¬ 
tiated  his  loans  and  handled  his  debts,  it  is  clear  that  his  financial 
obligations  were  grievous  burdens  to  him.  On  several  occasions 
he  is  afraid  to  appear  in  public  in  London  lest  he  be  arrested,  and 
at  such  times,  he  is  laboring  hard  too,  hid  away  in  his  den  at  his 
country  home,  in  finishing  a  novel  to  get  the  funds  to  settle  an 
account  of  some  hundreds  of  pounds  falling  due  six  weeks  or 
three  months  hence.  He  writes  his  lawyer :  “I  enclose  the  blasted 
bills.”  “Peel  has  asked  me  to  dine  with  a  party  of  the  late  gov¬ 
ernment  at  the  Carlton  to-day.  Is  it  safe?  I  fear  not.”  *  *  * 

And  again,  “Bradenham,  September  25th,  1836:  Your  letter 
alarms  me,  I  scarcely  think  it  safe  to  remain  here  as  any  pro¬ 
ceedings  of  the  kind  would  be  confusion.” 

The  next  magnitudinous  project  of  Disraeli  was  journalistic. 
With  a  leading  publisher  of  the  day,  Murray,  one  of  his  father’s 
friends,  and  with  another  partner,  Powles,  who  had  money,  he 
would  print  a  great  daily,  “The  Representative,”  that  was  to  be 
the  chief  news  agency  of  the  metropolis.  He  secured  the  son-in- 


Randolpi-i-Macon  Woman's  College  ii 

law  of  Sir  Walter  Scott  as  an  editor,  and  provided  for  reporters 
for  all  South  America,  the  United  States,  Mexico,  the  Levant  and 
for  most  important  places  in  Europe.  Journalism  was  not  so 
respectable  then  as  now,  and  it  was  declared  that  the  editor  would 
be  not  just  the  usual  newspaper  man  but  the  “Director-General 
of  an  immense  organ  and  at  the  head  of  a  band  of  gentlemen  and 
important  interests.”  Well,  the  paper  had  hardly  started  before 
there  came  a  financial  panic  in  London,  and  “The  Representative,” 
along  with  many  other  newspapers,  collapsed,  the  experiment  cost¬ 
ing  Murray,  the  proprietor,  about  £26,000,  and  causing  a  life-long 
breach  in  his  friendship  for  Disraeli. 

But  our  adventurer  was  not  to  be  downed  by  this  second  fail¬ 
ure.  He  turned  to  literature  again,  and  within  four  months  pro¬ 
duced  a  book  that  became  the  talk  of  London.  Vivian  Grey,  a 
product  in  chief  of  his  vivid  imagination,  politcal  reading,  and 
social  observations^but  in  small  part  quite  probably  also  the  pro¬ 
duct  oFEelpful  suggestions  from  his  frien^Mrs.  Austen^  clever, 
experienced  woman  of  the  world,  was  a  fashiofiable  novel  “giving 
strangely  vivid  pictures  of  high  life,  portraying  political  and  social 
leaders  under  fictitious  names,  boldly  critical,  revealing  aristoc¬ 
racy’s  faults  and  foibles,  full  of  high-sounding  maxims,  praising 
power  and  authority.”  The  book  was  anonymous,  had  been  skill¬ 
fully  advertised  by  the  publishers  just  before  its  appearance  as  the 
work  of  some  remarkable  man  of  fashion,  and  at  once  stirred  a 
curiosity  and  interest  among  the  literati  and  elite  that  gave  the 
work  immediate  and  wide  sale.  Fierce  criticism  was  not  lacking 
on  account  of  the  cheap  “puffing” ;  but  the  literary  effort  meant 
for  its  author  £700  in  money,  entree  into  high  society,  acquaint¬ 
ance  with  not  a  few  persons  of  genius  and  reputation,  and  also 
not  a  little  of  abuse.  In  Contarini  Fleming’s  words  on  reading 
the  review  of  his  novel  “Manstein,”  Disraeli’s  feelings  at  this 
time  as  to  the  abuse  are  probably  reflected :  “With  what  horror, 
with  what  supreme,  appalling  astonishment,  did  I  find  myself  for 
the  first  time  in  my  life  a  subject  of  the  most  ruthless,  the  most 
malignant,  and  the  most  adroit  ridicule.  I  was  sacrificed,  .  .  . 

scalped.  I  felt  that  sickness  of  heart  that  we  experience  in  our 
first  serious  scrape.  I  was  ridiculous,  it  was  time  to  die.”  But 
the  success  you  may  be  sure,  is  what  this  optimist  made  the  most 


12 


Bulletin 


of,  and  as  Towle  says  in  his  sketch  of  the  man,  “To  elbow  dukes 
descended  from  the  Conquest,  gartered  earls  and  powerful  min¬ 
isters,  popular  poets,  and  famous  men  of  wit  and  fashion,  to  be 
listened  to  with  pleasant  attention  by  the  belles  and  beauties  of 
the  West  End,  to  find  his  table  covered  with  coroneted  invitations, 
to  be  sought  for  at  all  the  social  festivities  and  literary  reunions 
of  patrician  London,  was  indeed  a  triumph  to  this  almost  beard¬ 
less  youth/'* 

This  “open  sesame”  to  high  circles  would  have  done  him  no 
good  though  had  he  not  possessed  the  wit  to  hold  his  own  in  the 
brilliant  company.  One  of  Disraeli’s  early  made  literary  friends 
was  Sir  Edward  Lytton  Bulwer,  who  once  gave  a  dinner  in  one 
of  the  Piccadilly  hotels  with  the  purpose  of  acquainting  his 
brother,  Sir  Henry  Bulwer,  a  Mr.  Milnes  and  Alexander  Cock- 
burn  with  his  new  friend  of  whose  talent  and  character  they 
were  rather  skeptical.  Disraeli  was  late,  probably  on  purpose, 
which  did  not  tend  to  enhance  the  regard  of  the  other  guests  for 
him;  nor  were  they  better  pleased  with  his  dandified  appearance 
when  he  did  come.  “He  wore  green  velvet  trousers,  a  canary- 
coloured  waistcoat,  low  shoes,  silver  buckles,  lace  at  his  wrists 
and  his  hair  in  ringlets.”  ”We  sat  down,”  said  Henry  Bulwer, 
“not  one  more  than  five  and  twenty  years.  We  were  all — if  you 
will  allow  me  to  include  myself — on  the  road  to  distinction,  all 
clever,  all  ambitious,  and  all  with  a  perfect  conceit  of  ourselves. 
Yet  if  on  leaving  the  table  we  had  been  severally  taken  aside  and 
asked  which  was  the  cleverest  of  the  party,  we  should  have  been 
obliged  to  say  the  man  in  the  green  velvet  trousers.”  His  wit  had 
conquered  their  pride  and  social  prejudices. 

In  his  youth  the  notoriety  that  comes  from  being  overdressed 
or  flashily  dressed,  and  through  all  his  later  days  the  benefit  that 
came  from  being  well  attired  were  his.  Dandies  and  fops  were 
the  fashion,  ’tis  true;  but  no  sooner  does  this  young  writer  come 
to  public  notice  than  everybody  is  remarking  on  his  eccentricities 
of  dress  and  demeanour,  “his  laces  and  colognes,  rings  over  gloves, 
bejeweled  satin  shirt  fronts,  his  marvelous  waistcoats  embroid¬ 
ered  with  gorgeous  gold  flowers,  his  patent  leather  pumps,  parti¬ 
colored  socks,  and  his  two  canes — a  morning  and  evening  cane, 
used  when  at  Gibraltar  and  changed  at  noon  when  the  gun  fired.” 


Randolph-Macon  Woman's  College 


i3 


He  wore  a  most  peculiar,  dandified  make-up  at  the  delivery  of  his 
maiden  speech  in  the  House  of  Commons ;  and  as  to  his  appear¬ 
ance  when  presenting  to  a  few  friends  for  criticism  at  Mrs.  Aus¬ 
ten's  home  the  opening  passages  of  his  ambitious  Revolutionary 
Epic  which  he  modestly  desired  to  be  classed  with  the  Iliad  and 
Divine  Comedy,  hear  Sir  Henry  Layard’s  description : 

“There  was  something  irressistibly  comic  in  the  young  man 
dressed  in  the  fantastic,  coxcombical  costume  that  he  then  af¬ 
fected — velvet  coat  of  an  original  cut  thrown  wide  open,  and  ruf¬ 
fles  to  its  sleeves,  shirt  collars  turned  down  in  Byronic  fashion,  an 
elaborately  embroidered  waistcoat  whence  issued  voluminous  folds 
of  frills,  and  shoes  adorned  with  red  rosettes — his  black  hair  poma¬ 
tumed  and  elaborately  curled,  and  his  person  redolent  with  per¬ 
fume — announcing  himself  as  the  Homer  or  Dante  of  the  age.” 
But  that's  Disraeli;  never  comparing  himself  or  the  members  of 
his  family  except  with  the  notables  of  earth.  His  prosperous, 
energetic  grandfather  is  like  a  Rothschild;  he  played  “whist  too 
with  Sir  Horace  Mann  and  had  his  macaroni  dressed  by  the  Vene¬ 
tian  Consul”;  his  father  he  tells  us  much  resembles  in  moral 
character  Goldsmith,  the  gifted  friend  of  Burke  and  Johnson,  and 
his  irascible  grandmother,  was  a  “demon  only  equalled  by  Sarah 
the  Duchess  of  Marlborough,  Frances  Ann  (marchioness  of  Lon¬ 
donderry),  and  perhaps  Queen  Catherine  of  Russia.” 

His  peculiar  manner  of  dress  must  not  be  regarded  as  an  ex¬ 
pression  of  unadulterated  affectation,  inspired  solely  by  the  de¬ 
sire  for  notoriety.  His  letters  home  to  his  sister  when  on  a  tour 
of  the  Orient  about  three  years  after  the  publication  of  “Vivian 
Grey”  show  that  all  these  trappings  were  to  him  things  of  beauty ; 
that  they  were  in  the  main  a  spontaneous  expression;  “leaping,” 
one  has  said  “by  a  natural  impulse  from  an  overcharged  source 
and  sprung  from  an  unfeigned  delight  in  gauds  of  attire,  gauds 
of  fancy  and  expression.”  Says  Jeremiah,  stating  a  fundamental 
law  of  the  world :  “Can  a  maid  forget  her  ornaments,  or  a  bride 
her  attire?”  Disraeli  couldn’t.  Why,  he  would  go  to  a  fancy 
ball  or  masquerade,  retire  late  at  night,  seize  his  pen  the  next 
morning  and  write  a  lengthy  letter  to  “Dearest  Sister  Sarah,” 
describing  most  minutely  and  completely  all  the  different  man- 


14 


Bulletin 


ners  of  colors,  draperies,  ribbons,  costumes,  furbelows,  and  orna¬ 
mentations  worn  by  the  various  ladies  present. 

And  just  here  it  may  be  in  point  to  remark  that  he  was  a  favor¬ 
ite  with  women;  and  that  he  most  highly  esteemed  them,  es¬ 
pecially  as  a  factor  in  molding  public  opinion.  While  the  senti¬ 
ment  “woman  is  a  toy”  is  expressed  by  a  character  in  one  of  his 
novels,  and  in  another  book  is  found  “Talk  to  Women;  this  is 
the  way  to  gain  fluency,  because  you  need  not  care  what  you  say.” 
Disraeli’s  real  view  was  that  “Nothing  was  of  so  much  impor¬ 
tance  and  of  so  much  use  to  a  young  man  entering  life  as  to  be 
criticised  by  women.”  He  was  aided  all  his  days  by  women 
friends.  It  was  Mrs.  Austen  who  encouraged  him  in  his  first  suc¬ 
cessful  literary  effort;  it  was  Lady  Blessington  who  threw  open 
her  drawing-rooms  to  him,  and  introduced  him  into  a  society  “in 
whose  composition  were  found  embassadors,  princes,  foreign 
Counts,  successful  authors,  and  such  notables  as  Lord  Lyndhurst, 
Sir  Robert  Peel,  Lord  Strangford  and  Hon.  W.  R.  Spencer” ;  it 
was  Mrs.  Wyndham  Lewis,  who  first  put  strong  faith  in  his  politi¬ 
cal  ability,  who,  two  years  after  her  husband’s  death,  became  his 
wife,  and  whose  love  and  fortune  were  tremendous  factors  in  his 
parliamentary  career;  and  it  was  the  women  who  called  him 
handsome,  who  enjoyed  his  conversation,  who  would  have  him  at 
all  the  brilliant  social  functions,  who  lionized  him  in  public,  who 
enjoyed  most  his  repartee,  and  who  bought  and  read  his  books. 
Lady  Cork  “doted  on  the  D’lsraelis”  we  are  told.  Lunching  with 
her  one  day  was  pompous  Lord  Carrington  who  liked  the  quiet, 
sedate  father,  Isaac  D’lsraeli,  but  had  no  use  for  young  Disraeli, 
regarding  him  as  an  agitator.  The  Lord  had  just  remarked  that 
he  believed  the  adventurer  was  now  abroad.  “You  old  fool,”  said 
the  Lady  Cork,  “Why  he  sent  me  this  book  this  morning.  You 
need  not  look  at  it ;  you  can’t  understand  it.  It  is  the  finest  book 
ever  written.  Gone  abroad  indeed !  Why  he  is  the  best  ton  in 
London !  There  is  not  a  party  that  goes  down  without  him.  The 
Duchess  of  Hamilton  says  there  is  nothing  like  (him).  Lady 
Lonsdale  would  give  her  head  and  shoulders  for  him.  He  would 
not  dine  at  your  house  if  you  were  to  ask  him.  He  does  not 
care  for  people  because  they  are  lords :  he  must  have  fashion,  or 
beauty,  or  wit  or  something;  and  you  are  a  very  good  sort  of  a 


Randolph-Macon  Woman's  College 


15 


person  but  you  are  nothing  more.”  Old  Mrs.  Brydges  Willyams, 
a  Spanish  Jewess  and  wealthy  widow  of  a  Cornish  squire,  con¬ 
ceived  a  restless  admiration  for  him,  began  writing  him  letters, 
asking  him  to  meet  her  at  the  fountain  in  Crystal  Palace,  Hyde 
Park,  to  whose  importunity  he  finally  yielded,  and  from  whose 
friendship  both  he  and  Mrs.  Disraeli  derived  great  pleasure. 
When  Mrs.  Willyams  died,  which  was  twelve  years  after  the  Plyde 
Park  meeting,  she  left  the  statesman  all  her  fortune  which  was 
valued  at  £30,600,  and,  strange  to  say,  was  buried  at  her  request, 
at  Hughenden,  close  to  the  grave  where  Disraeli  was  to  lie.  Our 
statesman  was  the  favorite  minister  of  Queen  Victoria,  who 
raised  him  to  the  peerage  in  1878.  Disraeli  gave  as  his  explana¬ 
tion  of  the  fact  that  he  was  more  popular  as  a  minister  with  the 
Queen  than  Gladstone,  that  he  treated  the  Queen  as  a  woman 
while  Gladstone  treated  her  as  a  public  department.  Quite 
pleased  was  she  with  the  addition  Disraeli  had  Parliament  make 
to  the  royal  title,  “Empress  of  India.”  The  anniversary  of 
Disraeli’s  death,  April  19,  1881,  is  kept  as  Primrose  Day  by  that 
efficient  political  organization  of  women,  the  Primrose  League. 
He  is  claimed  too  by  the  Suffragettes.  In  1848,  he  said  in  the 
House  of  Commons,  “In  a  country  governed  by  a  woman,  where 
you  allow  women  to  form  part  of  the  other  estate  of  the  realm, — 
peeresses  in  their  own  right  for  example — where  you  allow 
women,  not  only  to  hold  land,  but  to  be  ladies  of  the  manor  and 
hold  legal  courts,  where  a  woman  by  law  may  be  a  church  warden 
and  overseer  of  the  poor,  I  do  not  see  where  she  has  so  much 
to  do  with  the  State  and  Church,  on  what  reasons,  if  you  come 
to  right,  she  has  not  a  right  to  vote.” 

And  while  woman  is  being  considered,  what  of  Disraeli’s  view- 
on  love  and  marriage?  Well,  as  in  the  Bible,  so  in  his  multifar¬ 
ious  writings  appear  statements  that  will  prove  almost  anything 
you  like,  if  taken  by  themselves.  Once,  for  example,  he  writes 
home  “as  for  dove’  all  my  friends  who  married  for  love  and 
beauty  either  beat  their  wives  or  live  apart  from  them.  This  is 
literally  the  case.  I  may  commit  many  follies  in  life,  but  I  never 
intend  to  marry  for  dove,’  which  I  am  sure  is  a  guarantee  of  in¬ 
felicity.”  But  in  Henrietta  Temple  he  declares  “There  is  no  love 
but  love  at  first  sight.  .  .  The  passions  that  endure  flash 


i6 


Bulletin 


like  lightning;  they  scorch  the  soul,  but  it  is  warmed  forever.  .  .  . 
Love  is  inspiration  .  .  .  it  is  woman  whose  prescient  admi¬ 
ration  strings  the  lyre  of  the  desponding  poet.  .  .  .  How 

many  an  official  portfolio  would  never  have  been  carried  had  it 
not  been  for  her  sanguine  spirit.  How  many  a  despairing  advo¬ 
cate  has  clutched  the  Great  Seal  and  taken  precedence  before 
princes  borne  onward  by  the  breeze  of  her  inspiring  hope.” 

Now  what  Disraeli  actually  did  in  this  matter  (and  here  as 
elsewhere  deeds  count  for  more  than  words),  was  to  fall  desper¬ 
ately  in  love  with  Wyndham  Lewis’  wealthy  widow,  forty-five 
years  old  and  about  fifteen  years  his  senior,  almost  before  Mr. 
Lewis  was  cold  in  his  grave.  She  had  admired  him  from  the 
first,  prophesying  his  future  eminence  at  the  time  he,  with  her 
husband,  Disraeli’s  providential  friend  and  political  colleague, 
were  elected  to  parliament  from  Maidstone;  but  she  seemed  to 
feel  that  Disraeli’s  ardor  was  previous  and  possibly  calculating, 
and  held  him  off  for  some  months.  But  he,  vowing,  “I  am  mad 
with  love,  my  passion  is  frenzy,  and  if  any  two  persons  on  earth 
were  made  for  one  another,  certainly  we  are  the  two,”  continually 
stormed  the  citadel  of  her  affections,  and  within  a  year  received 
this  note  from  her  patching  up  a  rent  in  their  friendship  made  in 
a  recent  quarrel,  which  missive  shows  he  is  making  headway. 

“For  God’s  sake  come  to  me.  I  am  ill  and  almost  distracted. 
I  will  answer  all  you  wish.  I  never  desired  you  to  leave  the 
house  or  thought  a  word  about  money.  ...  I  am  devoted  to 
you.”  About  six  months  later  they  were  married,  August  27, 
1839,  and  none  can  study  their  subsequent  history  without  be¬ 
coming  convinced  of  their  genuine  devotion,  and  complete  com- 
patability.  Disraeli  could  have  loved  a  poor  woman,  but  not 
enough  to  marry  her.  Mrs.  Lewis  brought  to  him  a  house  in 
London,  No.  1  Grosvenor  Gate,  and  added  to  the  family  income 
an  annuity  of  £4,000.  She  told  a  visitor  on  one  occasion  (when 
her  husband  had  been  in  parliament  for  33  years  about)  that  she 
had  spent  on  electioneering  down  to  that  date,  1864,  a  hundred 
thousand  pounds,  but  “was  well  rewarded  by  the  devotion  of  so 
brilliant  a  husband.”  She  has  listed  their  opposing  qualities  and 
from  this  record  the  harmony  of  their  lives  would  seem  based  on 
the  law  of  contrasts :  First  his,  then  her  traits  are  given  :  “Very 


Randolph-Macon  Woman's  College  17 

calm,  very  effervescent ;  grave,  gay ;  never  irritable,  very  irritable ; 
very  patient,  no  patience ;  very  studious,  very  idle ;  conceited,  no 
conceit;  he  is  a  genius,  she  is  a  dunce.”  Disraeli  spoke  of  her 
once  as  a  most  lovable  creature  but  one  that  had  difficulty  in  re¬ 
membering  which  came  first,  the  Greeks  or  the  Romans. 

Disraeli  was  a  prolific  writer,  a  novel  issuing  from  his  thought 
every  year  or  two,  his  creative  imagination  pouring  fourth  mat¬ 
ter  until  the  very  last:  1826,  Vivian  Grey;  by  1829,  Ixion  in 
Heaven,  The  Infernal  Marriage ,  Pompanilla ;  between  1831-36, 
Contarini  Fleming,  the  Young  Duke,  the  Revolutionary  Epic, 
Alroy,  Henrietta  Temple,  The  Runnymede  Letters,  A  Vindication 
of  the  British  Constitution;  1844,  Coningsby ;  1845,  Sybil;  1852, 
Life  of  Lord  George  Bentinck;  after  1868,  Lothair;  about  1880, 
Endymion;  these,  besides  the  History  of  Paul  Jones  which  he 
edited  when  at  the  very  first  of  his  career,  and  sundry  pamphlets 
and  newspaper  articles. 

Now  as  to  the  merit  of  these  works,  those  who  have  a  right  to 
an  opinion  declare  that  the  productions  fall  short  of  being  perfect 
works  of  art,  owing  to  the  direct  political  purpose  seen  in  most 
of  them.  His  novels  are  full  of  original  thought,  fine  humor, 
daring  sarcasm,  happy  surprises  and  brilliant  statements ;  but  the 
art  in  them  is  often  sacrificed  to  the  politics,  signs  of  earnestness 
and  struggle  marring  the  fineness  and  pure  beauty  of  his  style. 

Monypenny,  his  chief  biographer,  says,  "‘Disraeli’s  most  con¬ 
spicuous  limitations  as  an  artist  are,  a  certain  lack  of  emotional 
•depth,  of  warmth  in  his  sympathy,  and  geniality  in  his  laughter, 
all  associated  with  a  tendency  to  look  at  life  too  exclusively 
through  the  eyes  of  ambition.”  His  earlier  works  were  the  em- 
bodification  of  his  feelings.  “In  Vivian  Grey,  I  have  portrayed 
my  active  and  real  ambition ;  in  Alroy  my  ideal  ambition ;  Con¬ 
tarini  Fleming  is  a  development  of  my  poetic  character.”  Con¬ 
ingsby  was  a  manifesto  furnishing  a  political  creed  to  Young 
England;  Sybil  was  an  indictment  of  the  social  relations  of  the 
rich  and  poor,  and  in  nearly  all  his  books  appear  philosophical 
discussions  concerning  economic,  civic,  and  ecclesiastical  insti¬ 
tutions.  Defence  of  the  settled  institutions  of  England  in  Church 
and  State,  the  vindication  of  his  own  race,  and  the  delineation  of 


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the  life  and  manners  of  the  English  aristrocracy  are  leading 
characteristics  of  his  books,  and  by  reason  of  this  last  feature 
alone  his  writings  will  always  be  highly  treasured  by  historians  of 
nineteenth  century  England. 

While  there  is  a  good  deal  of  gush  and  empty  chitchat  in  his 
novels,  it  is  asserted  that  there  is  hardly  to  be  found  a  dull  page 
in  all  the  5,000  or  more  that  came  from  his  pen;  he  wrote  he  said 
to  be  read  by  the  living  and  not  for  posterity,  and  what  he  wrote 
he  could  sell.  The  Young  Duke ,  one  of  the  least  worthy  of  his 
productions  was  sold  to  the  publishers  for  £500.  The  first  edi¬ 
tion  of  3,000  copies  of  Coningsby,  brought  him  £1,000  and  in 
a  very  brief  period  as  many  as  50,000  copies  were  wanted  in 
the  United  States.  For  his  Life  of  Lord  George  Bentinck 
(1852)  he  received,  we  are  told,  “a  large  sum  from  a  private 
hand,  while  a  conservative  millionaire  took  upon  himself  the 
debt  of  the  usurers,  3  per  cent,  being  exchanged  for  10  per  cent, 
interest,  under  which  Disraeli  had  been  staggering.”  All_jif  his 
works  are  original,  and  creative.  Through  his  literature  and  wit, 
like  Johnson,  he  rose  to  eminence.  Among  his  literary  honors 
were  a  D.  C.  L.  of  Oxford  University,  the  Lord  Rectorship  of 
Glasgow  University  and  an  L.  L.  D.  of  Edinburgh  University. 
His  compositions  certainly  do  not  lack  life  or  vigor;  his  charac¬ 
ters  moving  on  and  off  the  stage  of  action  with  celerity  and  grace. 
A  tone  of  grandeur  is  often  heard  as  in  the  opening  words  of 
Cantarini  Fleming:  (T  came,”  he  says,  “to  the  river  Nile,  to  that 
ancient  and  mighty  and  famous  stream,  whose  waters  yielded  us 
our  earliest  civilization,  and  which  after  having  witnessed  the 
formation  of  so  many  states,  and  the  invention  of  so  many  creeds, 
still  flow  on  with  the  same  serene  beneficence,  like  all  that  we  can 
conceive  of  Deity :  in  form  sublime,  in  action  systematic,  in  nature 
bountiful,  in  source  unknown.  .  .  .  My  solitary  step  sound¬ 

ed  in  the  halls  of  the  Pharoahs.”  And  how  rare  some  of  his 
descriptive  phrases  !  The  sunset  sky  is  “like  the  neck  of  a  dove ;” 
the  view  of  the  Euxine  “like  gazing  upon  eternity.”  He  beholds 
in  Venice  “pillars  of  rare  marble  ranged  in  majestic  order  and 
streaming  with  the  liquid  moonlight.”  He  describes  a  certain 
youth  of  fifteen  years  as  “one  of  the  most  affected,  conceited,  in¬ 
tolerable  atoms  that  ever  peopled  the  sumbeam  of  society.”  And 


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as  to  the  sweet  radiant  face  and  shapely  form  of  a  noble  Countess, 
he  says,  '‘all  the  freshness  of  an  innocent  heart  had  embalmed 
their  perennial  loveliness.” 

Having  snatched  at  and  secured  just  at  his  majority  the  rare 
pearl  of  literary  fame,  the  young  notable  would  now  go  to  Parlia¬ 
ment.  He  had  never  held  an  office  of  any  sort  in  his  life,  but  he 
would  attempt  at  the  first  nothing  lower  than  the  highest.  He  an¬ 
nounced  himself  a  candidate  (1832)  against  the  brother  of  the 
noted  Sir  Edward  Grey  (who  later  carried  through  the  famous 
Reform  Bill  of  1832),  for  the  borough  of  High  Wycombe,  a  close 
corporation  near  Bradenham.  It  was  before  the  Reform  Bill  had 
been  passed,  and  only  the  corporation  and  burgesses  numbering 
about  thirty-two  persons  had  votes,  the  population  in  general 
having  no  electoral  power.  The  poll  was,  Grey,  20,  Disraeli  12. 
Undaunted  by  this  defeat,  he  tried  again  six  months  later,  when 
the  Reform  Bill  having  been  passed,  more  of  the  townspeople 
could  now  vote.  There  were  three  candidates  and  the  poll  stood, 
Smith  179,  Grey  140,  Disraeli  119.  Still  not  disheartened  he 
tried  again  two  years  later  (January  7,  1835),  the  poll  stood, 
Smith  289,  Grey  147,  Disraeli  128;  again  he  tried  contesting 
another  seat  at  Taunton  (1835),  the  poll  stood,  Labouchere  452, 
Disraeli  282,  a  fourth  failure;  but  in  his  fifth  attempt  two  years 
later  he  won.  In  the  Maidstone  election  (July  27,  1837)  where 
two  out  of  three  candidates  were  to  be  chosen;  the  poll  stood 
Wyndham  Lewis  707,  Disraeli  616,  Col.  Thompson  412.  He  was 
in  parliament  at  last. 

But  that’s  no  final  goal  with  him,  as  is  revealed  in  his  quite 
grave  answer  to  Lord  Melbourne,  the  Home  Secretary,  four  years 
earlier,  who,  impressed  with  Disraeli’s  abilities,  and  thinking  of 
employing  him  as  his  private  secretary,  had  asked  the  aspiring 
young  man  one  day  when  dining  together,  how  he  might  advance 
him  in  life  and  what  was  his  objective  anyhow?  "To  be  Prime 
Minister,  My  Lord.”  Melbourne  set  to  work  to  prove  how  vain 
and  impossible  was  the  realization  of  such  an  ambition,  but  fifteen 
years  later  when  Melbourne  heard  that  Disraeli  had  been  ele¬ 
vated  to  the  headship  of  the  Tory  party  he  expressed  a  different 
faith  on  that  score.  "The  fellow  will  do  it  yet!”  he  exclaimed 
with  surprise.  Disraeli  rose  to  the  leadership  of  the  House  of 


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Commons,  to  the  high  office  of  the  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer 
three  times,  and  to  the  Prime  Ministership  twice,  first  when  sixty- 
two  years  of  age  in  1868,  and  second  when  sixty-eight  in  1874. 
And  note  the  type  of  men  he  contended  with  in  the  House  of 
Commons.  O’Connell,  the  Irish  chief ;  Edward  Bulwer,  the 
novelist;  Grote,  the  historian  of  Greece;  Molesworth,  Joseph 
Hume,  the  Earl  of  Shaftsbury,  Macaulay,  Sir  Robt.  Peel,  Lord 
John  Russell,  Lord  Palmerston,  Lord  Stanley,  and  Wm.  E. 
Gladstone. 

I-Iis  first  speech,  carefully  composed  and  memorized,  proved  a 
lamentable  failure,  so  far  as  gaining  the  ear  of  the  House  was 
concerned,  though  it  was  a  success  in  the  sense  that  he  would  not 
yield  the  floor  in  the  face  of  unfair,  loud,  disorderly  and  con¬ 
tinued  interruption,  planned  to  disconcert  him,  and  to  force  him 
to  his  seat.  The  Irish  and  Radicals,  who  had  no  faith  in  him  be¬ 
cause  in  his  first  effort  at  High  Wycombe  to  get  to  parliament  he 
had  seemed  to  be  with  them  and  the  reformers  and  in  his  suc¬ 
cessful  election  later  had  come  in  as  a  Tory  and  against  them, 
made  all  manner  of  noises  such  as  “hisses,  groans,  hoots,  cat¬ 
calls,  drumming  with  the  feet,  loud  conversation,  and  imitation  of 
animals,”  but  the  speaker  stood  on  his  legs  just  exactly  the  num¬ 
ber  of  minutes  he  intended;  and  as  he  took  his  seat  declared  in 
terrific  tones :  “I  sit  down  now,  but  the  time  will  come  when  you 
will  hear  me.”  This  hard  experience  in  the  end  helped  him.  His 
dandified  dress,  un-English  appearance,  affected  manner  of  de¬ 
livery,  overwrought  literary  style,  and  strange  metaphors  were 
distasteful  to  many  members  of  the  House. 

The  advice  of  his  friend  Shiel,  was  not  without  its  effect  “get 
rid  of  your  genius  for  a  session;  speak  often  but  shortly;  be  quiet, 
try  to  be  dull,  argue,  reason,  quote  figures,  dates,  calculations,  nad 
in  a  short  while  the  House  will  sigh  for  the  wit  and  eloquence 
which  they  all  know  are  in  you.  .  .  .  you  have  a  fine  organ, 

an  unlimited  command  of  language  and  courage,  temper,  readi¬ 
ness.  You  will  be  a  favorite.”  And  the  Duke  of  Wellington’s 
rule  for  successful  speech-making  in  parliament  would  have  been 
in  point.  “What  you  have  to  say,  speak  plainly,  quote  no  Latin, 
and  sit  down.”  Studying  and  correcting  his  faults,  though  not 
abandoning  the  classics,  he  did  become  in  eighteen  months  a 


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21 


speaker  that  held  the  House  in  wrapt  attention  for  hours  at  the 
time.  In  a  letter  to  his  wife  in  February,  1842,  he  reports,  “The 
affair  last  night  realized  all  my  hopes;  the  success  was  complete 
and  brilliant.  I  rose  at  5  o’clock  to  one  of  the  most  disagreeable 
audiences  that  ever  welcomed  a  speaker.  Everybody  seemed  not 
to  be  aware  of  my  existence,  and  there  was  a  general  buzz  and 
chatter.  Nevertheless,  not  losing  my  head,  I  proceeded  without 
hesitation,  and  ...  in  about  ten  minutes  affairs  began  to 
mend;  five  minutes  later  an  attentive  audience,  and  from  that 
time  until  near  half  past  seven,  two  hours  and  twenty  minutes,  I 
can  say  without  the  slightest  exaggeration  that  you  might  have 
heard  a  pin  fall  in  the  House.” 

Disraeli  entered  political  life  just  at  the  time  the  Tory  party 
had  been  wrecked,  the  passage  of  the  Reform  Bill  of  1832  having 
placed  authority  in  the  hands  of  the  Whigs  and  Radicals  which 
groups  soon  emerged  into  a  new  party,  the  Liberals,  while  the 
Tory  group  began  to  call  itself  the  Conservative  party.  A  decade 
about  after  the  Reform  Bill,  1841,  the  Conservatives  came  into 
power  under  Peel  as  Prime  Minister,  “the  readiest,  easiest  and 
most  flexible,  most  adroit  of  men,  who  played  upon  the  House  of 
Commons  as  upon  an  old  fiddle.”  Plis  ministry  lasted  five  years, 
1841-46,  but  on  Peel’s  advocacy  of  free  trade  and  support  of  the 
repeal  of  tiwrtwii  laws  his' party -w^nt  to  pieces,  the  free  traders 
and  liberal  Conservatives  following  Gladstone,  the  protectionists 
and  old  Conservatives  following  Disraeli. 

On  entering  parliament  Disraeli  had  first  followed  the  leader¬ 
ship  of  Peel,  who  evidently  highly  esteemed  the  new  member.  He 
had  pronounced  lofty  encomiums  on  the  character  of  the  Prime 
Minister  possibly  in  part  with  the  hope  of  gaining  promotion  by 
his  good  will.  In  fact  in  a  letter  from  Mrs.  Disraeli  to  Peel 
when  he  is  forming  his  ministry  Peel  is  virtually  asked  to  give 
her  husband  office  in  the  government,  though  Disraeli  may  not 
have  known  that  his  wife  wrote  it;  and  later  he  denied  on  the 
floor  of  the  House  of  Commons  ever  having  asked  Peel  for  place, 
which  statement  the  Prime  Minister  seemed  to  regard  as  untrue. 
But  though  friendly  on  the  start  it  was  not  long  before  Disraeli 
showed  himself  the  determined  and  open  foe  of  Peel.  He  did 
not  like  Peel’s  patronizing  air,  nor  his  deserting  his  principles  on 


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the  protection  question,  gaining  the  election  on  high  tariff  and 
then  making  use  of  his  office  to  carry  free  trade,  nor  his  coales¬ 
cing  with  the  Liberals  in  this  matter,  nor  his  being  at  the  head  of 
a  group  they  would  call  the  Conservative  Party  which  had  no 
definite  political  creed.  His  mind  once  made  up  against  Peel,  he 
pursued  for  years  a  deliberate  plan  for  underminding  his  author¬ 
ity  and  in  the  end  took  his  place  at  the  head  of  the  Conservative 
hosts  now  instructed  and  disciplined  in  his  own  principles  and 
thought. 

His  attacks  on  Peel  in  the  House  of  Commons  were  savage. 
“Sir,  the  Right  Hon.  gentleman  has  been  accused  of  treachery 
.  .  .  of  having  intended  to  abandon  the  opinions  by  professing 

which  he  rose  to  power.  Sir,  I  entirely  acquit  the  right  hon. 
gentleman  of  any  such  intention.  I  do  it  for  this  reason — that 
when  I  examine  the  career  of  this  minister,  who  has  filled  a  great 
space  in  the  parliamentary  history  of  the  country,  that  for  be¬ 
tween  thirty  and  forty  years,  the  right  hon.  gentleman  has  traded 
on  the  ideas  and  intelligence  of  others.  His  life  has  been  one  great 
appropriation  clause.  He  is  a  burglar  of  others’  intellects.  There 
is  no  other  statesman  who  has  committed  petty  larceny  on  so  great 
a  scale.” 

After  Disraeli  came  to  the  headship  of  the  Conservative  Party, 
which  he  had  in  fact  made  over  again  out  of  the  wreck  of  the  old 
Tory  party,  infusing  it  with  new  life  and  purpose,  it  was  the 
mighty  mind  of  Gladstone,  the  Liberal  Chief,  that  was  pitted 
against  his  own  the  rest  of  his  days  in  the  Commons,  and  many  a 
time  was  the  peace  of  that  mind  disturbed  by  the  vigilant,  critical, 
dynamic  Disraeli.  With  no  other  opponent  was  Gladstone  so 
unbending,  so  unchivalrous,  showing  so  little  magnanimity,  at 
times  all  but  rude,  as  with  Disraeli.  In  one  of  their  fiery  con¬ 
troversies  in  the  House,  Disraeli  noting  the  bitterness  of  Glad¬ 
stone’s  hostility  and  the  terror  of  his  looks  as  he  attacked  in  de¬ 
bate,  quietly  interrupted  to  congratulate  himself  on  the  existence 
of  “this  strong  table  between  us.”  His  hardness  of  spirit  toward 
the  man  seems  to  have  been  due  to  his  belief  that  Disraeli  was 
not  sincere.  But  let  us  remember  that  very  respectable  men  arc 
often  put  in  the  Ananias  Club  by  their  opponents.  Gladstone 
once  lectured  him  on  proper  manners  in  the  House  of  Commons ; 


23 


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Randolph-Macon  Woman's  College 

A 

but  whether  his  manners/1  and  morals  pleased  Gladstone  or  not, 
Disraeli  was  able  in  ^181*7) to  turn  him  out  of  office  and  to  hold 
the  premiership  in  his  sfead  for  five  years. 

As  to  Disraeli’s  services  not  much  in  the  way  of  advanced 
legislation  was  done  by  him, — some  labor  laws  and  the  important 
Reform  Act  of  1867  increasing  the  number  of  voters,  which  meas¬ 
ure  he  got,  to  use  his  own  phrase,  by  “dishing  the  Whigs” — but  he 
secured  control  of  the  Suez  Canal,  added  to  the  Queen’s  title, 
checked  Russia’s  aggressions  in  Turkey,  revising  the  San  Stefano 
treaty  at  the  Congress  of  Berlin,  thus  the  better  securing  India  for 
England,  and  he  rebuilt  a  great  political  party  after  it  had  been 
shattered  by  the  defection  of  its  own  leader,  and  raised  it  in  spite 
of  its  unpopular  antecedents,  to  such  a  height  of  public  favor  that 
for  the  thirty-nine  years  which  followed  (his  great  measure)  the 
Tories  were  in  power  with  large  majorities  for  twenty-three  of 
them.  He  gave  his  party  a  three-fold  creed :  preservation  of  the 
constitution,  social  betterment,  and  imperialism.  To  him  the  Tory 
party  represented  the  nation ,  as  over  against  the  Whigs  repre¬ 
senting  chiefly  the  commercial  classes,  or  against  the  Liberals  and 
Radicals  representing  the  so-called  people  or  masses ,  and  he 
wTould  have  it  revert  to  its  old  principles.  “Gentlemen,”  he  declared, 
“The  Tory  party  unless  it  is  a  national  party,  is  nothing.  It  is  not 
a  confederacy  of  nobles,  it  is  a  party  formed  from  all  the  numer¬ 
ous  classes  in  the  realm— classes  alike  and  equal  before  the  law, 
but  whose  different  conditions  and  different  aims  give  vigor  and 
variety  to  our  national  life;  its  objects  are  three-fold;  to  maintain 
our  national  institutions,  to  improve  the  condition  of  the  people, 
and  to  preserve  the  Empire.”  He  has  been  acknowledged  as  the 
regenerator  and  representative  of  the  Imperial  idea  in  England, 
and  for  that  one  reason  alone  his  name  will  ever  live  in  English 


History.  The  political  principles  he  espoused  in  the  opening  years 
of  his  public  career  are  the  principles  held  to  till  the  last,  a  period 
of  over  forty  years :  faith  in  democracy  on  the  one  hand,  rever¬ 
ence  for  tradition  and  traditional  institutions  on  the  other ;  dislike 
of  the  selfish  Whig  oligarchy;  concern  for  the  people;  and  de¬ 
fence  of  Crown,  House  of  Lords,  Courts,  and  Church,  as  well  as 
Commons,  all  upon  the  principles  of  nationality.  To  allow  the 
class  spirit  or  the  cosmopolitan  spirit  to  overrule  the  national 


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spirit  was  to  him  unpatriotic  and  detestable;  and  like  Burke,  he 
made  much  of  prescription  and  experience;  like  him  he  con¬ 
ceived  of  the  nation  as  having  a  personality,  a  soul ;  it  was  a  cor¬ 
poration,  a  partnership  of  living  and  dead  and  unborn,  a  fact 
overlooked  by  utilitarian  and  theoretical  legislators.  With  him 
sentiment  counted  for  much,  and  was  rightfully  appraised  as  a 
force  in  ruling  men,  even  their  prejudices  being  valued. 

And  now  a  few  words  as  to  the  qualities  of  his  character.  He 
has  been  called  turn-coat,  traitor,  adventurer,  schemer,  mystery 
man,  inscrutable,  insincere,  undependable — I  do  not  so  make  him 
out.  Some  inconsistencies  to  be  sure,  but  few  of  the  greater 
statesmen  show  an  absolutely  consistent  party  record — neither 
Chatham,  Pitt,  Burke,  Canning,  Peel,  Palmerston  or  Gladstone. 
As  to  the  mystery  part — he  kept  his  own  counsel  and  had  few 
intimacies.  Garrulous  enough  to  be  sure  when  subjects  are  trite, 
but  serious  business  on,  thinking  more  than  he  talked,  and  spring¬ 
ing  on  occasion  many  a  surprise.  “Cold  and  impenetrable  as  a 
statue,”  he  appeared  in  the  Commons  seated  on  the  Opposition 
bench,  “eyes  cast  down,  hands  folded,”  as  the  debate  rolled  on 
about  him,  but  let  some  foe  make  a  false  step  or  charge,  “he  is  on 
his  feet  and  at  him,  boiling  with  real  or  affected  indignation.”  “A 
sneer  for  an  enemy,  a  smile  for  a  friend”  was  his  unchristian 
maxim.  He  would  yield  to  no  slight  or  personal  attack  without 
instant  resentment.  He  did  not  accept,  I  think,  the  beatitude 
“Blessed  are  the  meek  for  they  shall  inherit  the  earth”;  but  like 
the  princes  of  the  Gentiles  did  delight  in  exercising  dominion 
and  authority.  Power  he  coveted  above  all  things.  “Power,” 
says  Vivian  Grey,  “oh  what  sleepless  nights,  what  days  of  hot 
anxiety,  what  exertions  of  mind  and  body,  what  travels  what 
hatred  would  I  not  endure  to  get  it !”  He  could  stand  abuse,  and 
no  public  man  is  worth  his  salt  who  cannot  stand  it.  O’Connell 
once  applied  these  epithets  to  him:  “A  vile  creature,  a  reptile, 
the  lineal  descendant  of  the  blasphemous  robber  who  ended  his 
career  beside  the  Founder  of  the  Christian  faith”;  and  for  doing 
so  was  called  by  Disraeli  in  reply,  “A  systematic  liar,  a  beggarly 
cheat,  a  swindler  and  a  poltroon,  .  .  .  whose  public  and  pri¬ 

vate  life  are  equally  profligate,  and  who  has  committed  every 
crime  that  does  not  require  courage.”  Over  against  this  ugly 


Randolph-Macon  Woman's  College 


25 


statement  of  his  let  us  place  this  one,  which  his  sister  regarded  as 
sublime,  from  his  speech  at  the  Mancheter  Athenaeum : 

“Knowledge  is  like  the  mystic  ladder  in  the  patriarch’s  dream; 
its  base  rests  on  the  primeval  earth,  its  crest  is  lost  in  the  shadowy 
splendors  of  the  empyrean,  while  the  great  authors  who  for  tradi¬ 
tional  ages  have  held  the  chain  of  science  and  philosophy,  of 
poesy  and  erudition,  are  the  angels  ascending  and  descending  the 
social  scale,  and  maintaining,  as  it  were,  the  communication  be¬ 
tween  man  and  heaven.” 

Grit  is  in  this  man’s  make-up.  There  were  three  years  in  his 
early  manhood  when  his  constitution  seemed  about  to  go  to  pieces 
and  his  mind  appeared  all  but  unbalanced.  On  two  occasions  he 
experienced  something  like  fits  or  swoons,  once  dropping  in  his 
tracks  in  the  street  at  the  end  of  a  hard  day’s  campaigning, — 
nervous  exhaustion  probably.  He  was  sure  of  himself — self- 
reliant,  drawing  his  power  from  within.  “The  breath  of  man  has 
never  influenced  me  much,  for  I  depend  more  upon  myself  than 
upon  others.”  In  one  of  his  letters,  when  twenty-nine  years  of 
ago,  he  wrote,  “I  have  not  gained  much  in  conversation  with  men 

.  .  .  I  make  it  a  rule  now  never  to  throw  myself  open  to 

men.  I  do  not  grudge  them  the  knowledge  I  could  impart,  but  I 
am  always  exhausted  by  composition  when  I  enter  society,  and 
little  inclined  to  talk,  and  as  I  never  get  anything  in  return,  I  do 
not  think  the  exertion  necessary.”  When  ill  and  despondent,  he 
wrote  just  before  starting  on  his  tour  of  the  East  in  which  he 
visited  chief  centers  of  interest  in  Spain,  Egypt,  Syria,  Malta,  Tur¬ 
key,  Cyprus,  “For  there  is  something  within  me,  which,  in  spite  of 
all  the  dicta  of  the  faculty  and  in  the  face  of  the  prostrate  state 
in  which  I  be,  whispers  to  me,  I  shall  yet  weather  this  fearful 
storm.”  Again,  “What  I  am,  I  know  not,  nor  do  I  care.  I  have 
that  within  me,  which  man  can  neither  give  nor  take  away,  which 
can  throw  light  on  the  darkest  passages  of  life,  and  draw,  from  a 
discordant  world,  a  melody  divine.  For  it  I  would  live,  and  for  it 
alone.” 

As  to  ambition,  he  once  openly  declared  in  the  House  of  Com¬ 
mons,  “I  love  fame,  I  love  public  reputation.  I  love  to  live  in  the 
eyes  of  the  country,  and  it  is  a  glorious  thing  for  a  man  to  do  who 
has  had  my  difficulties  to  contend  against.” 


26 


Bulletin 


In  perceptive  imagination  he  was  possibly  without  a  peer 
among  the  statesmen  of  his  day.  Taking  the  pains,  time  and 
study  necessary  to  master  a  political  question  the  Commons  had  r 

to  handle,  so  that  he  might  back  his  position  on  the  matter  with  as 
accurate  and  full  information  as  any  other  man,  he  had  still  in 
his  rare  imaginative  faculty  a  special  advantage  over  his  rivals, 
in  that  he  often  saw  deeper  and  farther  into  the  future  conse¬ 
quences  of  a  principle  or  proposed  bill  than  they.  In  our  Civil 
Strife  of  1861-65,  Disraeli,  contrary  to  Gladstone  and  the  leading 
men  of  the  Conservative  party,  saw  from  the  first  what  was  to  be 
the  final  issue.  “His  great  merit,”  says  Monypenny,  “as  a  politi¬ 
cal  thinker  was  his  ability  to  penetrate  through  manner  and  ap¬ 
pearances  to  the  realities  beneath,  thus  ernancipting  us  from 
formula.”  His  keen  insight  was  quick  to  pierce  to  the  heart  and 
hidden  life  of  any  popular  phrase,  shibboleth,  or  symbol.  “Rid 
yourself,”  he  says  in  an  early  speech  “of  all  that  political  jargon 
and  facetious  slang  of  Whig  and  Tory — two  names  with  one 
meaning,  used  only  to  delude  you  and  unite  to  form  a  great  na¬ 
tional  party  which  can  alone  save  the  country  from  impending  ^ 

destruction.”  Quite  impressive  his  statement,  “The  Utilitarians 
in  politics  are  like  the  Unitarians  in  religion :  both  omit  imagi¬ 
nation  in  their  systems,  and  imaginaton  governs  mankind.”  And 
this  one,  “Modern  philosophy,  with  its  superficial  discoveries  has 
infused  into  the  breast  of  man  a  spirit  of  skepticism;  but  I  think 
that  ere  long,  science  will  again  become  imaginative,  and  that  as 
we  become  more  profound,  we  may  become  also  more  credulous.” 

In  accounting  for  his  successes  in  life,  of  course  may  be  men¬ 
tioned  his  literary  environment,  studious  habits,  wide  travels, 
command  of  language,  gift  of  coining  terse  phrases,  his  patience, 
power  of  application  and  the  like,  but  one  word  and  that  word 
inexplicable  alone  tells  why  he  could  and  did  forge  to  the  front. 

Disraeli  was  a  genius . 

He  does  not  credit  the  school-teachers  with  having  led  him  to 
triumph.  “They  considered  their  pupils  as  machines,  which  were 
to  fulfill  a  certain  operation,  and  this  operation  was  word-learn¬ 
ing.  .  .  .  the  human  mind  was  with  them  always  the  same 

soil,  and  one  to  which  they  brought  ever  the  same  tillage.  And 


Randolph-Macon  Woman's  College  27 

mine  was  considered  a  sterile  one,  for  they  found  that  their 
thistles  did  not  flourish  where  they  should  have  planted  roses.” 

And  as  to  his  religion  and  creed?  Well,  you  are  more  im¬ 
pressed  with  his  worldly  than  with  his  heavenly  ways.  Like  Jef¬ 
ferson,  he  did  not  wear  his  religion  on  his  sleeve,  considering  this 
his  own  private  affair.  He  was,  as  has  been  said,  a  member  of 
the  Anglican  Episcopal  Establishment,  attended  its  services,  and 
boldly  championed  its  union  with  the  State.  “His  instincts,  tradi¬ 
tions,  and  imagination,”  says  Mr.  Kebbel,  “making  him  respect  a 
great  national  hierarchy  founded  on  great  mysteries  and  storied 
with  a  solemn  grandeur ;  like  its  own  old  abbeys  and  cathedrals.” 
As  to  his  position  on  the  evolutionist’s  theory  of  man’s  origin,  he 
says,  “Is  man  an  ape  or  an  angel?  I,  my  lord,  am  on  the  side  of 
the  angels.”  You  do  not  find  in  him  any  mean,  base,  vulgar 
traits.  No  small  thing,  person  or  idea  seems  worthy  of  his  atten¬ 
tion;  though  the  sins  of  pride,  conceit,  hatred,  vengeance,  and  of 
an  unbridled  tongue  seem  to  be  his.  The  man  who  over¬ 
came  the  obstacles  he  surmounted,  who  mastered  the  men  he 
mastered,  and  who  taught  and  led  a  nation  as  he  did,  standing  too 
from  first  to  last  in  the  locality  in  which  he  was  born,  must  have 
had  strong  pabulum  somewhere  upon  which  he  fed  his  soul. 
And  one  morning  when  I  crossed  this  brief  but  noble  passage 
of  Disraeli’s,  I  said,  in  there  somewhere  I  believe  this  genius  got 
spiritual  sustenance :  It  read,  “The  Word  of  God  is  eternal  and 
will  survive  the  spheres.  .  .  .  We  may  analyze  the  sun  and 

penetrate  the  stars,  but  man  is  conscious  that  he  is  made  in  God’s 
own  image,  and  in  his  perplexity  he  will  ever  appeal  to  our  Father 
which  art  in  Heaven.” 


